


Hurricane

by atheartagentleman



Series: Distractions [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Enjolras being Enjolras, Eponine being absolutely fabulous, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Grantaire being a troll, M/M, do let me know, if you think the rating is wrong, mild warning for swearing and idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheartagentleman/pseuds/atheartagentleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s like a very localised hurricane, he thinks, and he never makes it to the shelter on time to avoid being swept away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> Actually the first piece of this series to be written, and also a contribution to the ERE Shipping Festival.
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr. I'm at-heart-a-gentleman

‘So are you two, like, lesbians?’

Enjolras giggles and Eponine smirks. It’s not funny – hasn’t been in years – but they have made a pact always to laugh when this happens, because otherwise they will start throwing punches, and they’re saving up their arrests for when it really matters. They know how to pick their battles, and horny strangers are just not worth it. Enjolras raises their joined hands to flip him the bird as they keep walking, and his angry shout follows them down the street. It’s only once they’re out of earshot that Enjolras lets out the growl that has been building behind his teeth.

‘Ignorant fuck.’

Eponine merely grimaces in agreement and squeezes Enjolras’s hand, but then her expression turns sly.

‘Let’s face it – he’s just jealous he doesn’t get to hold hands with utterly fabulous me.’

Enjolras barks a laugh at that, and some of the tension leaches out of his beautiful face.

‘Very true.’

And there really is no denying it: Eponine is fabulous in every way. She’s clever, she’s quick-witted, she swears like a sailor but sings old folk tunes and silly pop songs in the shower, she’s gorgeous and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. Enjolras is well-aware of how lucky he is. Her little ploy just now is typical Eponine: it was utterly transparent, and shouldn’t have been able to distract him so easily from his anger, but she carries it off with a brazen smile that brooks no disagreement. She’s like a very localised hurricane, he thinks, and he never makes it to the shelter on time to avoid being swept away.

She is still grinning when they meet up with Grantaire, who is waiting for them by the bus stop, as agreed, and he quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at her, asking to share in the joke. A flick of her hand waves him off and he simply shrugs with a smile, graciously admitting defeat and letting them have their laugh without him. He leans forward to kiss Enjolras instead, pouting in mock petulance when his angel draws back almost at once with a fond smile.

‘Public place, R, public place. We’ve had this discussion,’ but his tone is only teasing. ‘Have you no shame?’

A grin splits Grantaire’s face, and Enjolras realises with a sinking feeling that that was decidedly the wrong question to ask.

‘Nope,’ he pops the ‘p’, and reaches for Eponine, who laughs, sensing where this is going and more than happy to play along. Making Enjolras squirm is practically a spectator sport – one day, they’ll realise he’s playing up his discomfort for their amusement, and then there will be hell to pay. Grantaire kisses Ponine’s still-laughing mouth in a display that is decidedly unfit for public places, and she twines her arms around his neck, stands on tip-toes and moans theatrically. When they separate, she flutters her eyelashes and breathes a flirtatious ‘missed you, baby’. Enjolras is pretending not to know them – it’s a valiant effort and they will commend him for it later, but it’s not fooling anyone.

‘You’ll make me jealous, at this rate, you know,’ he comments drily. His eye-roll includes them both, but his real target is Grantaire, whose face does a funny little twitch as his eyes go very, very soft. He still needs this confirmation that he actually has a place in their trio, that his inclusion in the EnjolrasEponine Avalanche is more than just convenience. Sometimes, Enjolras feels ashamed of how often he forgets this, and how rarely he proffers the reassurance R craves.

‘Right, lovebirds, I’m feeling sushi for lunch.’

It’s not a question, and the boys both know it. Instead, they shake themselves from what was getting perilously close to a Moment, gather Eponine between them – arms around waists and shoulders, and nobody knows anymore whose limb is whose – and they make their way to her favourite fast-food sushi joint.


End file.
